"SPRING IS HERE, I HEAR. . ."

I carry the sky

across the street

stumble under

its weight.

Now I carry the buildings

and finally some trees and a dog.

The dog barks

at itself.

I look like a mirror

with legs.

A mirror walking

down the street.

We, dance partners

it & I.

I all huff & puff

the mirror calm as anything.

The edges of the mirror

bite deep into my palms.

I am tired of carrying the sky

place it against a red-bricked wall.

Finally the mirror

half cracked at the top

has time to

reflect upon its new home.

I have saved it from a fate worse than

a skip.

It gives my little room

an extra dimension.

A room that isn't

there that I am

always walking in( ouch! )to.

Sometimes I talk to

the me in the other room.

I paint my room bright

bright yellow

fill it with jonquils

and daffodils.

A red skirting board

runs around the room.

The flowers rejoice.

Spring, it appears, is:

here.

There is no you nor

ever will be

again.

I sit with my reflection.

Both of us say nothing.

We have

nothing

to say.